


maybe if you play it right

by notallballs (notallbees)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Dirty Talk, Edgeplay, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Phone Sex, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2017-01-13
Packaged: 2018-09-16 21:16:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9289922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notallbees/pseuds/notallballs
Summary: It was day four, and Oikawa was already looking ragged around the edges.Iwaizumi takes control.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure if my writer's block is gone. I hope so. Either way, churning this out in a couple of days was definitely the ego boost I needed after such a long dry spell. Please enjoy!

It was day four, and Oikawa was already looking ragged around the edges. 

He was late to practice, which was unusual in itself, but add to that the tired smile and the way he was dragging his feet all the way through set up and warm ups, it was no wonder everyone started asking whether he was sick. 

“He’ll be fine,” Hajime told the third person to ask him whether Oikawa was feeling alright. “Ask him yourself if you’re so concerned, I’m not his keeper.”

Yahaba, standing to one side, raised his eyebrows. “Is everything alright, Iwaizumi-san?”

“Trouble in paradise,” Matsukawa told him in a stage whisper as he passed them. 

“I heard that, Mattsun!” Oikawa squawked from the other side of the gym.

“There’s your trouble,” Hajime said, folding his arms casually. “The one preening by the ball cart.”

They all turned to look at Oikawa, who had finally realised that his t-shirt was on backwards, and was making a futile attempt to turn it around without taking it off. 

“Are you sure he’s in the fast track class?” Matsukawa asked, leaning over and resting his elbow on Hajime’s shoulder. For a moment, Hajime was tempted to push him off, but he didn’t want to give Oikawa the satisfaction. Given the state he was in already, letting someone other than Oikawa hang all over Hajime would either pass right over Oikawa’s head, or incite him into some kind of sleepy, jealous fury. 

Hajime hoped for the former, though the latter would be entertaining at least. Matsukawa sighed and leaned on him more heavily. Yahaba glanced at him, and Hajime narrowed his eyes slightly just in case he got any ideas. He looked away again, and the three of them watched Oikawa struggle until he had managed to turn his t-shirt halfway around and get his elbow stuck in one of the arms.

“I’d better go clean that up,” Hajime said with a sigh. 

Matsukawa slid off him and gave him a slap on the ass. Hajime glared over his shoulder, but Matsukawa just shrugged. “For luck.”

“Keep your luck.”

Hajime crossed the gym at a leisurely pace, watching Oikawa flail helplessly. He looked like a dog with a cone around its neck, sad and useless. Halfway across the gym, Hajime looked over just in time to see Mizoguchi poised to yell. He caught Hajime’s eye and closed his mouth, giving Hajime a solemn nod before turning away to wrangle the first years instead. 

“Oi,” Hajime said when he got close. 

Oikawa looked up, his gaze mournful. “Iwa-chan,” he whined. “I’m _stuck_.”

“I can see that, idiot,” Hajime said, reaching out to grab hold of Oikawa’s t-shirt. “The whole gym can see it.”

Oikawa grumbled quietly, but miraculously refrained from struggling while Iwa untangled him from his t-shirt and pulled it over his head. He shivered a little, standing there in his shorts, and Iwa ran a suspicious eye over him.

“ _Are_ you sick?” he asked doubtfully, turning the shirt over in his hands. 

“Tired,” Oikawa said, shaking his head.

Hajime reached up to fit the neck hole over Oikawa’s head, then grabbed one of his hands and shoved it through an armhole. “You stay up all night again? I told you—”

“I did not,” Oikawa snapped, looking mutinous. He gave Hajime a filthy look from under his eyelashes. “I woke up at four AM with a raging hard-on that would not be silenced!”

“Dammit, trashykawa.” Having finally gotten all of Oikawa’s limbs in the right place, Hajime yanked the t-shirt down to his hips and stepped back. Frowning, he made a subtle shushing motion with his hand. “Keep it down, would you?”

“I’ve been trying,” Oikawa hissed, before turning and storming off.

Hanamaki sidled up and propped his arm on Hajime’s shoulder. “Hey, neighbour,” he said. “Trouble in paradise?”

“Fuck off.”

 

 

It wasn’t hard to corner Oikawa at the end of practice. Already tired from his sleepless night, practice had wrung him dry, and he had barely managed to put on his school trousers by the time everyone else was hurrying off to class. 

“Hey,” Hajime said, slinging his bag down beside Oikawa, where he sat trying to pull on his socks. “If you’re that tired, why don’t you just go—”

The sentence died in his throat when Oikawa got to his feet quickly and pinned Hajime against the row of lockers. 

“I feel better now,” he muttered, sliding his hand up beneath Hajime’s untucked shirt and leaning in to kiss the side of his neck. 

“Oikawa,” Hajime said, with an ineffectual push against Oikawa’s shoulders. “Moron, we have to go to class.”

“We have time.”

With more dexterity than Hajime had expected from someone who’d almost throttled himself with his own t-shirt less than an hour earlier, Oikawa unbuttoned Hajime’s trousers and slipped a hand into his underwear. 

“We don’t have time for _that_ ,” Hajime said, grabbing Oikawa’s wrist. 

Oikawa whined and pressed in harder, his erection digging into Hajime’s hip and his mouth sucking a mark just below the collar of his shirt. 

“We’re gonna get caught, stupid.”

“We have at least fifteen minutes until class starts,” Oikawa murmured. He curled his fingers around Hajime’s dick and started to move them slowly. “And there’s no PE class first thing on Wednesdays…”

Hajime groaned. “Oikawa—”

“Mm.” Oikawa yanked Hajime’s shirt to one side and bit his shoulder gently. “Less complaining, more of you moaning my name like that.”

“Oikawa, shut _up_.”

Oikawa pulled back, grinning. “I plan to.” He kissed Hajime quickly, barely giving him time to respond, before he pulled away completely and sat back down on the bench. “Come on, Iwa-chan,” he said, patting the space between his legs. “I won’t bite.”

When Hajime didn’t move, Oikawa grabbed him by the pockets of his school trousers and dragged him closer. He leaned forward and nuzzled his face against Hajime’s crotch, rubbing his cheek against Hajime’s dick through his clothes. “Mm, this is all I could think about,” Oikawa moaned, half smothered by the material. He slid his hands around Hajime’s waist and grabbed hold of his ass. “Let me suck you, please? I’ll make it good, it’ll be quick—”

“Oh god, fine, fine,” Hajime hissed, hoping it wasn’t too obvious that Oikawa had just set him on fire with a few simple words. He scrambled to pull down his underwear enough for Oikawa to get at his dick. “Just get on with it.”

Oikawa didn’t hesitate. He swallowed Hajime’s dick gratefully, a blissful expression on his face. Hajime looked down at him. His hands hovered in the air above Oikawa’s shoulders, uncertain what was allowed. Hajime thought a lot about Oikawa going down on him. It occupied many of his daydreams, and some of his actual dreams too. It was something Oikawa usually did reluctantly, and rarely when asked. He had never, ever begged before. 

After a minute, Hajime tentatively put one hand on Oikawa’s shoulder, the other on top of his head. Oikawa made an encouraging sound and bobbed down further, taking Hajime’s dick as far as he could until he choked. 

“Idiot,” Hajime said fondly, when Oikawa pulled off, wincing and swallowing hard. 

Oikawa looked up at him without speaking. He opened his mouth again and slowly, painfully slowly, sank back onto Hajime’s cock.

“Aw, fuck,” Hajime moaned, curling his fingers in Oikawa’s hair. “That’s it, Oikawa, that’s good—”

It didn’t take much longer. Hajime slammed his hand against the wall above Oikawa’s head when he felt himself starting to plateau, rocking his hips in a tight pendulum. Oikawa pulled off before Hajime came, letting him spill over his fist instead. Hajime’s legs were shaking, but he forced himself to stay on his feet. He retrieved a pack of tissues from Oikawa’s bag and quickly cleaned himself before tucking himself back into his clothes. When he looked back, Oikawa still sat slumped on the bench. His clean hand was between his legs, rubbing himself lazily through his clothes.

“Hey,” Hajime said quietly, reaching for Oikawa’s hand and wiping it off with the clean end of the tissue. “You’d better not.”

Oikawa made a piteous noise, but he let Hajime tug his other hand away from his dick. “It hurts, Iwa-chan,” he whined, hips rocking slightly to chase some sensation. “I don’t want to wait anymore, please?”

Hajime dropped to a crouch in front of him. “Hey now,” he said softly, putting his hand on the back of Oikawa’s neck and tugging him forward into a hug. He ran his fingers through Oikawa’s hair. His shoulders felt tense, his thighs straining where they bracketed Hajime’s body. Hajime sighed and kissed Oikawa’s temple before pulling back. “You said at least a week.”

“I know—”

“You asked me to stick to it.”

“I _know_ , but—”

“Tooru.” Oikawa’s attention snapped to focus at the sound of his given name. Hajime pushed Oikawa back in his seat and slid his hand down the centre of his bare chest, then down again, pressing the heel of his hand over Oikawa’s dick. 

“Ah, Iwa— _hah_ —” 

Oikawa’s hips rose to meet his hand, pushing back against the pressure. 

“You want me to get you off?” Hajime asked evenly. 

“Hnngh—Hajime—”

Before either of them could make a decision one way or the other, the school bell chimed. 

“Well then,” Hajime said, getting to his feet and reaching for his bag. 

Oikawa straightened up, wild-eyed. “Iwa-chan, no—”

“Class is starting, idiot.” Hajime kicked his shin. “Get your clothes on already.”

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa yelled, as Hajime backed away toward the door of the clubroom. “Where are you going?”

“If I’m late again, Yoshizaki-sensei will give me detention.” Hajime grinned and gave Oikawa a quick salute. “See you at lunch.”

Hajime stepped out into the sunshine, feeling light and refreshed. Oikawa’s wail followed him down the steps. 

 

 

Oikawa must have slept better on Wednesday night, because he made it through Thursday’s morning practice without any clothing mishaps, and his personality was as insufferable as ever. Hajime avoided getting caught alone with him in the clubroom again, even though he’d jerked off the previous night to the memory of Oikawa blowing him. 

They walked home together following afternoon practice, and Hajime defied the unseasonably cold weather and treated himself to a soda ice lolly from the convenience store, just to watch the faces Oikawa made while he ate it. By the time they got home, Oikawa was obviously struggling to walk without making it obvious he was concealing an erection under his team jacket. 

Hajime licked the bare wooden stick, despite the fact that the feel of it set his teeth on edge, and grinned at Oikawa. “You okay?”

“Fine,” Oikawa snapped, pushing him out of the way. 

Hajime caught his arm and pulled him close enough to whisper, “Come inside.”

Oikawa shuddered, his eyes falling closed for a moment. Without releasing his arm, Hajime breathed out against Oikawa’s neck. 

“Let me take care of you,” he murmured.

Oikawa opened his eyes slowly. They were close enough to kiss, and Hajime’s gaze dropped to Oikawa’s mouth unintentionally. 

“Hajime,” Oikawa said quietly. Hajime looked up again. Oikawa’s gaze was fierce. “Stop trying to cheat.”

He wrenched his arm free, and Hajime watched him walk unsteadily up the road. From behind, his hair was a mess, and it made Hajime want to grab it and push him to the floor. 

Instead, he ran inside, yelled a quick greeting to his mother and younger brother, and went straight to his room to jerk off on one of Oikawa’s t-shirts. 

 

 

On Friday, Oikawa texted him in class. There was nothing explicit about the message, but the fact that Oikawa was thinking about him at all, enough to risk getting his phone confiscated, made Hajime hot and urgent. He hid his phone under the desk and typed back, **code blue in 10**.

Oikawa texted back immediately. **roger**.

In the third floor bathroom, Hajime dragged Oikawa into the end stall and threw him up against the wall. 

“Haji—” Oikawa gasped, grabbing his shirt and pulling him into a messy kiss. 

Hajime kissed him back urgently, running his fingers through Oikawa’s hair before tugging open his top three shirt buttons. He parted the lapels of Oikawa’s shirt and ran his fingertips along his collarbone, feeling the heat of his skin under his clothes. 

“Iwa-chan, careful,” Oikawa sighed, as Hajime pushed Oikawa’s head to one side. “Don’t—ah!—don’t leave any marks.”

“I know that,” Hajime growled, tightening his hands around Oikawa’s upper arms. 

Oikawa moaned softly when Hajime sucked on his throat. He bit his lip, trying to stifle himself, and Hajime rewarded him by reaching down and squeezing him gently through his clothes.

“Ah!” Oikawa gasped. “Iwa-chan, I have to go back—”

“Not until I’m finished with you,” Hajime muttered, pushing Oikawa’s head back against the wall, and seizing his earlobe between his teeth. He unfastened Oikawa’s trousers and shoved his hand into his underwear. Oikawa quivered.

When Hajime wrapped his fingers loosely around Oikawa’s dick, Oikawa shivered and slid down the wall a few centimetres. He shoved his knuckles in his mouth and looked at Hajime out of the corner of his eye.

“Okay?” Hajime asked, before giving him a gentle stroke. 

Oikawa whined behind his fingers. 

“I know,” Hajime said softly, leaning in to kiss the corner of his mouth. “You’re doing good, Tooru.”

Oikawa whimpered and closed his eyes. His hips jerked a couple of times, chasing the sensation of Hajime’s hand on him. Hajime pushed him back against the wall with his hips and he whined again loudly.

“Not yet,” Hajime said, pressing their foreheads together. Oikawa’s eyes were damp, his cheeks hot. Hajime could _smell_ how turned on he was. “You can wait.”

“No, no, no,” Oikawa murmured, closing his eyes tight. “Please—”

“Tooru.”

Hajime pulled Oikawa’s hand away from his mouth and kissed him hard. He brought his hands up to cradle Oikawa’s face and stroked their tongues together, breathing in deep the scent of his skin, his deodorant, his stupid cherry lip balm. When Oikawa started to pull away, Hajime caught his bottom lip between his teeth and sucked on it hard. He felt Oikawa’s hips roll against his slowly and he pressed back, grinding against him. 

Oikawa tensed, going stiff for a moment before shaking against him. Hajime pulled back slightly and peered at him suspiciously. 

“Did you—”

“ _No_ ,” Oikawa moaned, hiding his face in Hajime’s neck. “Almost. Stop teasing me, I can’t take it.”

“You totally can,” Hajime murmured, sliding his hands down to hold Oikawa’s hips.

Oikawa’s arms wound around his neck, holding him tight. “I hate you.”

“Nope.”

“I do.”

“I hate you more.”

Oikawa huffed. “That’s fair,” he said, with a smile in his voice.

 

 

Hajime woke late the next day, taking advantage of his weekend lie-in, to find he already had two texts from Oikawa. One had been sent just after midnight, and had clearly been written half asleep. Hajime felt his ears get hot at the tone of the message, which was shockingly dirty, at least for Oikawa.

The other message was just an image. Oikawa still in bed, hazy with sleep, his chest bare and his hand resting tantalizingly close to the edge of his underwear. 

Hajime groaned and rolled over to press his morning wood into his futon. He wanted to go straight over to Oikawa’s house, pin him to his bed, and make him come so hard he cried. Instead he took a deep breath, rolled onto his back, and called Oikawa.

It rang a few times, and Hajime was about to hang up again when Oikawa finally answered. 

“Iwa-chan,” he said, sounding flustered. Hajime could hear shouting in the background, and Oikawa sounded like he was out of breath.

“What’re you doing?"

“Takeru’s puppy got out.”

“Ah. You get her back?”

“No thanks to nee-chan.” There was more shouting in the background, and Oikawa replied with something foul-mouthed. “Sorry,” he said, not sounding very sorry. “But they’re all going out in a minute. I’m still doing homework.”

“You haven’t finished that essay yet?”

“I’ve been a little distracted this week, Iwa-chan.” 

Oikawa was started to sound testy, and Hajime didn’t want to push his luck. 

“So you’re home alone today?” he asked casually. 

There was a long pause, and then Oikawa muttered. “Hold on a minute.” Hajime could hear him shouting goodbye to his parents and sister, then he heard a door slam and Oikawa returned. “They’re gone,” he said, his voice huffing out as he sat down heavily. “Iwa-chan?”

“I’m still here. When do they get back?”

“Not until late.” Oikawa paused again before continuing in a more seductive voice. “Do you want to come over today, Iwa-chan?”

Hajime grinned. “Nah,” he said, sounding more casual than he felt. “I have to do some chores, and I have homework.”

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa squawked. “You just tried to tell _me_ off for not finishing my homework—”

“Mm,” Hajime hummed, unconcerned. “Maybe I’ll swing by for dinner.”

“Iwa-chan, no,” Oikawa whined. “That’s _hours_ away.”

Hajime ran his hand down over his stomach and stroked himself absently through his underwear. “Well, I’m busy.”

Oikawa made a frustrated noise. “So I have to wait again, do I?”

“Wait for what?” Hajime asked innocently. He squeezed himself a little harder. 

“I want to come, obviously!”

Hajime sighed, and rolled his hips slowly. “I’m not stopping you.”

“You are,” Oikawa said crossly. “You’re—” He stopped suddenly, and Hajime opened one eye just to double check that his bedroom door was closed.

“I’m what?”

“Iwa-chan...are you—”

“Extremely busy,” Hajime said, his breath catching slightly. “Yeah, definitely.”

Oikawa wasn’t listening. “You are!” he hissed, sounding triumphant. “You’re touching yourself. How mean, Iwa-chan, you can’t even wait until you see me—”

“Oi, shittykawa,” Hajime said, failing to sound even remotely annoyed. “You’re home alone now, aren’t you? Put your hand in your pants.”

“Iwa-chan—”

“Close your eyes,” Hajime went on, tipping his head back against the pillow. “I want you to pretend it’s me touching you.”

Oikawa let out a shaky breath. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop,” he said quietly. 

Hajime made an encouraging noise. “You can come if you want to,” he murmured, and smiled at the way Oikawa’s breath caught on the other end of the line. “Or you can wait.”

He could hear rustling on the other end, and then Oikawa let out a breathy sigh. “Mm, and then what?” he asked.

“It’s a surprise,” Hajime said, busy trying to picture Oikawa. He imagined him sitting at his desk, flopping backward across the floor of his bedroom. The sun shone through Oikawa’s bedroom windows in the morning; it always woke him early when he stayed over. It was easy to imagine Oikawa, spread out and moaning, the weak winter sunlight throwing shapes over his long limbs. 

“ _Iwa—a_ ,” Oikawa whined.

Hajime smiled to himself. “Maybe I’ll just keep teasing you,” he murmured, picturing it. “Maybe I should tie up your hands so you can’t cheat—”

Oikawa moaned, long and desperate. “Oh my god,” he muttered, so soft that Hajime had to strain to hear him. “Iwa-chan—”

"Are you?" Hajime asked, stroking himself lazily. "You can touch yourself, if you want to."

"I hate you," Oikawa moaned. 

Hajime laughed under his breath. "Maybe I won't even touch your dick," he said thoughtfully. Oikawa made a quiet sound of protest, but Hajime ignored him. "Maybe I'll finger you again. You think that would make you come?"

"Hnn—Iwa, hah, Hajime—”

Hajime groaned softly, then moved his hand to one side. He didn't want to come yet; it felt like all he'd done in the past few days was dedicate every spare moment to jerking off over Oikawa. But still, he let the fantasy play out in his mind. Oikawa had to be close by now. As far as Hajime knew, the last time he'd gotten off was the previous Saturday, when he'd snuck across from his own futon to Hajime's, to hold him down and grind their hips together until they both came, stifling noises in each other's shoulder. Hajime thought about Oikawa now, writhing on the floor of his bedroom, his trousers shoved down just far enough to let him get a hand around his dick. He had to be sensitive, hot and overstimulated. 

"Oikawa," Hajime said softly, over the sound of quiet panting on the other end of the line.

"Mm?"

"You can come," he murmured, "but you'll regret it."

Oikawa made a helpless sound, cut off sharply when Hajime ended the call and tossed the phone to one side. He lay there for a moment, the fantasy lingering behind his eyes, and then he pushed himself up and went to take a cool shower.

 

 

Making Oikawa wait was the hardest part.

It had been easy, the rest of the week, when they were preoccupied by school, volleyball, family, homework. Hajime enjoyed torturing Oikawa like this, giving him a taste of pleasure and then snatching it away again. But he'd reached the point where he was torturing himself almost as much as Oikawa.

Hajime didn't have any chores to do, and he'd finished most of his homework the day before, but he followed his mother around until she found something for him to do. Cycling to the supermarket took him past Oikawa's house, but he took another, longer route to avoid the temptation. After that, he picked up his little brother from school and took him to his swimming club. The smell of chlorine reminded Hajime of the time he and Oikawa had fooled around at the pool, one afternoon when they'd come with Matsukawa and Hanamaki. Mattsun's older sister was a pool lifeguard so they'd been allowed to stay a little after closing, and Oikawa had dragged Hajime into a changing room and gone down on him for the first time. 

The memory of Oikawa's head moving between his legs, of his fingers tangled in Oikawa's wet hair, was almost enough to make him give in and head over early. He changed into his gym clothes instead, and ran for five or six kilometres around the neighbourhood until he was weary and breathless. 

Oikawa bombarded him with whiny texts all day, alternately begging him to visit sooner, or threatening to take care of matters without Hajime's interference.

**have some patience young padawan** , Hajime texted, just to annoy him.

The string of incomprehensible garbage he got in reply meant that he had probably succeeded. 

He whiled away the rest of the afternoon by finishing his homework, and got a text just as he pushed his literature book away with considerable relief. 

**olds home in 30 w food** , Oikawa had texted, along with a grumpy emoji face. **told them 2 expect u**.

**be right thr** , Hajime texted back. 

"Mom!" he yelled as he ran downstairs. "I'm going to Oikawa's for food!"

"She's in the garden," his brother called back from the front room. 

Hajime stuck his head through the door and grinned. "Hey, Chiakkun. Tell Mom not to wait up, okay? I’ll probably stay over again."

Chiaki made a face at him. "She'll ask did you do—”

"Did I do my homework, I know," Hajime said with a rueful smile. "Tell her yes, it's all done, and I'll make sure Oikawa finishes his as well."

"Fine," Chiaki said with a nod, as though he were the one giving permission. "Have fun with Tooru-nii."

 

 

Oikawa answered the door so quickly that Hajime thought he must have been waiting just inside, ready to spring his trap. He yanked Hajime inside by his hoodie and pressed him back against the door as soon as it was shut.

"Oikawa—”

"Fuck," Oikawa snarled, getting a tighter grip on his clothes before kissing him soundly. 

Hajime tried to respond in kind, but Oikawa was desperate, and the kiss was messy and uncoordinated. He put his hands on Oikawa's waist to steady himself, and Oikawa sighed and started to kiss his jaw, and then his neck, moving impatiently down to the collar of his shirt.

"Oikawa," Hajime tried again. "Slow down, I just—”

"Can't," Oikawa murmured, tugging Hajime's hoodie up to his armpits and taking his t-shirt with it. "They'll be back soon. We have to be quick."

Hajime laughed helplessly. "Oikawa—wait, stop rushing me." He managed to grab hold of Oikawa's shoulders and pushed him back, holding him at arm's length. "Hey, calm down, would you? I'm just here for dinner."

Oikawa stared back at him. A series of emotions flickered over his face too quick to count, but ended in him scrunching his nose in bewildered disgust. "Iwa-chan," he said, matter-of-factly. "That had better be a joke."

Before Hajijme could respond, they heard voices outside, and stepped away just in time for Oikawa's father to throw the door wide. 

"Ah, Hajime-kun!" he said, with Oikawa's winning smile. "Tooru said you'd be joining us. I hope you're hungry."

 

 

Oikawa seemed irritated at first, brushing Hajime to one side and refusing to make eye contact while the two of them set up the low table to eat dinner. His parents had brought enough takeaway to feed at least six people, but when they started setting out the containers of food, Hajime caught Oikawa by his wrist and leaned close.

"Don't eat too much," he murmured, before releasing him again.

Oikawa scowled at him, looking as if he wanted to say something nasty in return, but didn't dare bring it up in front of his parents. 

When they were seated, Hajime made polite conversation with Oikawa’s dad, while his mom watched the local news with rapt attention and occasionally shushed them. Oikawa was quiet. 

“Hey,” Hajime whispered, nudging Oikawa while his parents were distracted. “What's up with you?” 

Oikawa shot him a poisonous look, before turning his attention back to his noodles. 

“Okay then.”

Making sure nobody was looking, Hajime shuffled closer to Oikawa, then reached across under the table and gently laid his hand on Oikawa's thigh. 

“Iwa—” Oikawa hissed.

Hajime ran his fingertips up the inside of Oikawa's thigh and brushed them over the front of his jeans. 

Oikawa tensed. The food he had balanced in his chopsticks slipped back into the takeaway carton.

Oikawa's mother turned and gave him a curious look. “Tooru, is something wrong?”

Despite the danger, Oikawa was starting to get hard. Hajime waited until Oikawa’s mother turned away again, then he put his hand back in Oikawa’s lap and ground down gently.

“Really, Mama, everything’s perfectly—hn, _ah_.” Tooru pushed Hajime’s hand away, glaring at him. “Everything's f-fine, Mama.”

“Tooru—”

“Excuse me,” Oikawa murmured, getting clumsily to his feet.

“Tooru!” his mother said, looking like she wasn't sure whether to be annoyed or worried. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Oikawa shook his head. “I just—I’m not feeling well,” he muttered unconvincingly. “I need to—” He left without finishing his sentence, scrabbling at the door to escape before disappearing along the hallway. 

“Hm,” Tooru’s mother said, watching the door rock back after Oikawa slammed it behind him. “Hajime, has Tooru been acting strangely today?”

Hajime shrugged. “Sorry, Auntie, I wouldn’t know. I only just got here before you did.”

She frowned. “He’s been a little off this week. Is it volleyball?”

“Maybe,” Hajime said, taking pity on them both. “He’s probably working himself up about the tournament again, the idiot.”

“Ahh, maybe you're right.”

Hajime ate the rest of his food quickly before offering to go and check on Oikawa.

The door to Oikawa's room was closed, but Hajime let himself in without pausing to wonder what he might find on the other side. 

It wasn't as scandalous as he might have hoped. Oikawa was sprawled on his back across his unmade bed, his jeans pulled down slightly and his hands clenched in the sheets either side of him. His dick jutted out, straining his underwear. 

“That had better be you, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa murmured without opening his eyes. 

Hajime closed the door behind him. “Auntie was worried you're not feeling well.”

Oikawa snorted. “Did you tell her it's all your fault?”

“Obviously not,” Hajime said, kneeling down beside him and running a fingertip along the soft strip of skin between his t-shirt and his underwear. “Did you forget about the part where you promised to behave—”

“Iwa-chan—”

“And you _didn't_.”

“I know, but—”

“But nothing,” Hajime muttered, grabbing hold of Oikawa’s hips. “You broke the rules, you chose the punishment, I’m enacting it.”

Oikawa whined. “But I’m—”

Hajime leaned over him until their noses almost touched. “Tooru,” he whispered. “Shut up.”

To his surprise, Oikawa fell silent instantly. Leaning back, Hajime grabbed Oikawa’s jeans and yanked them down to his knees, then reached up to grab his underwear too. Oikawa made a soft, surprised sound, but again he was quiet when Hajime looked up at him. 

“You want them to hear you?” Hajime murmured, while he carefully freed Oikawa’s dick from the tangle of his underwear. It brushed against the back of his hand and Oikawa made another involuntary sound, low and desperate. Hajime tutted at him. “Well, I guess if you can’t be quiet on your own.”

Oikawa’s eyes widened briefly, then Hajime leaned over him again and kissed him. Oikawa responded eagerly, his hands coming up to clutch at Hajime’s shoulders. It felt as urgent and frantic as the kiss at the front door when Hajime had arrived, but less hurried, like moving in slow motion. Hajime felt shivery, desperate to get his hands on Oikawa. He slid a hand up underneath Oikawa’s shirt, feeling the way his stomach jumped at the touch, and sucked on the end of his tongue, which made him shiver and groan. 

“Hajime,” Oikawa whispered when they parted for breath. His fingers were in Hajime’s hair, caressing and pulling. 

Hajime kissed him again quickly, then kissed his cheek, his jaw. He was keenly aware of Oikawa’s parents just a few rooms away, and the way Oikawa’s breath was starting to heave in his chest. Hajime moved back again and tugged at the edge of Oikawa’s t-shirt, yanking it up and then over his head. Oikawa held himself off the floor to let Hajime pull it off, then flopped back onto his futon with a wild-eyed look.

“Open up,” Hajime said. 

Oikawa frowned “What—”

Hajime rolled the t-shirt up and shoved it in Oikawa’s mouth.

With Oikawa successfully gagged, Hajime wriggled out of his own jeans and straddled Oikawa’s legs. Oikawa hadn’t moved; he watched quietly as Hajime climbed over him, eyes dropping briefly to Hajime’s crotch and then back up to meet his gaze. 

“You okay?”

Oikawa nodded. 

Hajime circled the pad of his thumb over one of Oikawa’s nipples, then ran his fingertips down, over his ribs and abdomen. Oikawa arched his back, eyes falling shut as he pushed himself up against Hajime’s hands. 

“This what you wanted?”

Oikawa nodded again, head bobbing frantically as he dropped back against the bed. Hajime reached for his hands, tangling their fingers together for a moment. He gave Oikawa’s hands a reassuring squeeze, then took hold of his wrists and pinned them at his sides. Oikawa made a soft sound in response; Hajime wasn’t sure whether in approval or protest, but he didn’t make any attempt to struggle. 

They had fooled around before when their parents were home, but only at night, when they were sure everyone was asleep. Hajime couldn’t deny the thrill he felt at the idea of doing this when someone might walk in; the same, dizzy sensation from the clubroom, and the third floor bathroom. Oikawa’s parents were unlikely to walk in without any warning, but the mere possibility was enough to make it exciting.

He leaned down and ran his tongue along the hot length of Oikawa’s cock, taking his time to savour the sensation. It was partly because he wasn’t quite done teasing Oikawa yet, and partly just because he loved the way Oikawa looked and felt and smelled. Not that Hajime had any intention of admitting that to him.

Oikawa moaned in response to his touch, arching his back again, thighs tensing. Hajime tightened his grip on Oikawa’s wrists and repeated the motion, running his tongue slowly from the base of Oikawa’s dick to the tip. He was almost unseated by Oikawa’s thighs jumping against him, twitching helplessly in their attempt to keep still. 

“I feel like I’m on a mechanical bull,” he muttered, pressing his face into Oikawa’s hip and nudging him back down again. Oikawa replied with something that was probably rude, but thankfully the t-shirt made it incomprehensible.

Releasing Oikawa’s wrists for the moment, Hajime shifted his weight, carefully nudging Oikawa’s legs out to the side so he could squeeze between them.

“Hey,” he whispered once he was settled again. He leaned down and scraped Oikawa’s hip with his teeth. “Hands to yourself, okay?”

If Oikawa made any response, it wasn’t obvious. Hajime caught hold of his hips and pressed them to the bed, relishing how difficult it was to hold any part of Oikawa down. They knew each other so well that Oikawa’s strength shouldn’t be a surprise, but every now and then it caught Hajime off guard. Perhaps it was the way Oikawa bore an uncanny resemblance to a baby giraffe, but his ability to win wrestling matches between them at least three times out of ten was unexpected and exciting.

When he was sure he wasn’t about to get kneed in the face, Hajime lowered his head and took Oikawa’s dick in his mouth, as deep as he could. Oikawa’s hips writhed under his hands and he moaned, long and loud into his t-shirt. His hands tore at the sheets, twisting them into even more of a mess. 

Hajime bobbed his head a few times, letting Oikawa’s dick slide over his tongue. It was so hot in his mouth, and so hard under the velvet skin; Oikawa wasn’t going to last long. He backed off a little, sucking him slowly, not quite enough to get him off. Oikawa tossed his head, making little whining sounds. 

After a minute or so of torture, Hajime released him, wrapping his fingers loosely around OIkawa’s cock instead. 

“Hey.”

Oikawa raised his head slightly. He looked dazed and wanton, his hair a mess and his eyes heavy. Arousal punched Hajime in the gut, making his balls ache pleasantly, and his dick twitch in anticipation. He gave Oikawa a crooked smile and stroked him slowly.

“You ready?”

Oikawa’s eyes widened. He nodded. 

“You have to keep quiet.”

Oikawa rolled his eyes, then flopped back onto the sheets. 

Hajime lowered his head again. He was pretty sure he’d never seen Oikawa this turned on before. He wanted to do it again, as soon as possible. One of Oikawa’s hands found his shoulder and twisted into the fabric of his t-shirt, tugging at it. 

"Alright, alright," Hajime muttered, only half annoyed.

Oikawa's dick filled his throat, making his mouth water. A part of him wanted Oikawa to grab his hair and fuck his throat, but Hajime would probably hit him if he tried it. He curled his fingers around the base of Oikawa's dick and jerked him off quickly, sucking tight over the head.

There was never any hope that Oikawa would be quiet, but Hajime was impressed that he was trying. He moaned while Hajime worked him up towards his orgasm, hips rolling and his fingers gripping desperately at Hajime's shoulder. Oikawa tensed up suddenly, his voice catching and then letting loose as a quiet sob. Hajime sat up quickly, working his fist over Oikawa's spit-slick skin. He watched, awed and painfully turned on, as Oikawa came so hard he shot all the way up his chest and hit a stray textbook on his bed 

Oikawa kept rolling his hips into Hajime's hand, moaning brokenly into his makeshift gag until his voice cracked and he reached out with a shaking hand to push Hajime away. Hajime sat back on his heels, staring down in wonder at his wet fist, and the absurd puddle of come on Oikawa's belly. 

"Wow," he whispered, his own arousal forgotten for the moment. He reached up and tugged the t-shirt out of Oikawa's mouth. "Are you alive?"

"Nnh," Oikawa said. After a moment he stretched and opened his eyes to give Hajime a bleary, unfocused look. "Hnh?"

Hajime grinned. He unrolled the t-shirt and pasted it over Oikawa's chest, then flopped down beside him. "You're a mess," he said, sounding undeniably affectionate as he reached out to brush the hair off Oikawa's face. His fringe had come in it. "Rephrase—you're fucking disgusting."

"Mm, Hajime," Oikawa hummed, rolling over and burying his face in Hajime's neck.

"Gross," Hajime muttered, because it was, not because he minded. He could feel Oikawa sticking to him in several places. “You need to wash your entire room now, just so you know.”

Oikawa shook his head, doubtless getting the both of them even more filthy. “Hajime,” he said again.

“Is that the only word you know now?”

“Mm.”

Reluctantly, Hajime wrapped his arm around Oikawa’s waist and pulled him closer. He nuzzled in against Oikawa’s neck, kissing the sweaty skin behind his ear and inhaling the scent of his hair. 

“You—you broke me,” Oikawa said after a few minutes, speaking in a slow, floaty voice. “Oh my god, I feel like I came for days.”

Hajime snorted. “I think you did.”

Oikawa pulled back and kissed him, hard and brief. “Thank you,” he said solemnly. Hajime realised with horror that his eyes were wet.

“Oh, jeez, don’t cry about it,” Hajime said, pulling him in tight.

Oikawa snorted, and began to laugh, but the laughter came out more like a sob. “S-sorry,” he said awkwardly, crammed between Hajime’s arm and his shoulder, his voice wavering. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Too many things to list.”

Oikawa laughed wetly, then he sniffed and rolled away so that he could sit up.

“Oh my _god_.”

Hajime grinned. 

“Iwa-chan, what did you _do_ to me?”

 

 

“Alright, Iwaizumi,” Hanamaki said after they finished warmups on Tuesday afternoon. “What did you do to him?”

Hajime looked where Hanamaki was pointing and snorted. He’d had to push and pull Oikawa every which way to get him to do his warmups properly, and now he was just standing by the ball cart with a dopey look on his face, staring into the middle distance. 

“You mean he doesn’t always look like that?” Hajime said, shrugging. 

“Are you sure you didn’t hit him one too many times?”

“What’s too many?” Hajime asked innocently. 

Oikawa looked over then and caught them looking at him.

“Iwa-chan!” he yelled, and lifted his arm to wave enthusiastically. “Makki-cha—an”

Hajime grabbed Hanamaki by the arm and tugged him in front. “Hide me.”

“Nah,” Hanamaki said, shrugging him off and wandering in the direction of the second years. 

Oikawa bounded up like an overexcited puppy. “Iwa-chan,” he said, grinning stupidly. “Come and hit my tosses?”

Hajime contemplated him for a moment. His brain still felt like it was falling out of his ears from the string of dirty texts Oikawa had been sending him all day, and he badly needed to get off. 

Before he could reply, Oikawa leaned in closer and lowered his voice. “You were so good to me at lunchtime, Iwa-chan,” he purred. “Come and hit my tosses and I’ll return the favour after practice.”

Hajime socked him in the shoulder. “We said a week,” he muttered, with a dangerous smile. “If you can do it, I can.”

Oikawa’s grin was terrifying. “I’m going to make it worth your while.”

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](https://notallballs.tumblr.com/) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/notallbees) | [my iwaoi fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&commit=Sort+and+Filter&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&work_search%5Brelationship_ids%5D%5B%5D=1329922&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=0&fandom_id=758208&user_id=notallbees)


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